It’s so easy
          to feel isolated
                    in this World.

When I get
          in that place
                    of loneliness

I listen to a record
           from my father’s old collection
                    from college.

                                                       ­                                               And I here them
                                                          ­                        I can feel them
                                                            ­                  gathered around

                                                         ­                                              With their beers
                                                           ­                             talking of hot girls
                                                           ­            with big, bouncy curls

                                                          ­                                        And for a moment
                                                          ­                           just a small moment
                                                          ­                I don’t feel so lonely.

In a short 24 hours
We transition from
Condemning the lack of
gun control
Shouting cries of
Murderous misogyny
Lamenting over lost souls
Innocent
and Never Forgotten
Players in our Facebook Novels.

In one day
We switch to watching
Glitzy action films
Of men in tight suits
Saving individuals
Innocents
Quickly forgotten.
Because we are reassured that
At least one is safe.

But not until after
We see 20 minutes
At least
Of destruction
Chaos
Explosions
of Innocents
Screaming and running
in Terror
Fearing for their lives
From a madman on his
Massacre
Innocents
immediately forgotten.

And we are uneffected.
We do not mourn over these
Innocents.
Despite seeing them die
We are unaffected and Entertained
Before our very eyes
We saw them.
And we forgot them.

They are not mentioned
They are not remembered
And they are not Lamented
In our Facebook Novels.
Despite the fact that
We Know
These tragedies actually happen.

You sat on the other end of the table
Glistening, shining, and taunting me
Rosy cheeks with spurts of Yellow and Green
Silently teasing
A juicy, little Apple.
Hopefully no one would see me, no one would pay any attention
As I grabbed the treat and the knife
And began to dangerously peel.
I knew I was doing it wrong
My hands shaking while my cheeks began to flush
Embarrassed by my ignorant inadequacy.
Are you left-handed? she asked from my left.
Humiliation filled the corners of my eyes, wet and distraught.
No, I mumbled. My cheeks reflecting Mose's Red Sea.
I was beginning to drown.
Your thumb needs to move, You make me nervous,
and she sounded nervous indeed.
Put it down here. Help yourself control it. Guide it.
Everyone was staring now, the whole table awed
My ignorance showing, like a medallion at my chest
My shameful Apple as pathetic proof.
You're doing it wrong.
Non così. Basta, faccio io.
Let me do it.
You're about to graduate, and you can't peel an apple.
I began choking, drowning in tears of Humiliation.
No, let her do it the small Voice on my left said.
She is finding her way. Let me watch her.
I finished peeling the Apple
Suffocating my tears as I ate.
You remind me of Daisy, she said soon after
From The Great Gatsby.
I choked and laughed, more ashamed than ever.
I'm not sure that is a compliment.
I could barely muster a mumble.
She couldn't do anything by herself.
She looked at me, gentle and forgiving.
I think it is, she replied
Wistful and Wise.
Daisy was vital to the story, you know.
And I believe that given the chance, she could have done anything that she wanted
*On her own.

The young man sits
Back straight and
Eyes down
Drumming his fingers against the table
Crisply timed and evenly marked
Changing meters
with Dancing Fingers
his Timely Beat-ers
Strike the table's Sound.

Then adding feet
To the Steady Beat
Gaining speed
His mind is Freed

No one can catch him
His Spirit long gone
And is dancing to his
Beating Song.

If I put
Breaks
In between
Random lines

Does that
Count
As a
Poem?

People often ask me why I do it.
How do I manage being here
When my Love is
873 miles away
Four states away
And one time zone away.

"How do you do it?" They ask.
"I could never do a long distance relationship." They say.
"I would never be able to handle it."

Well, the truth is
The way I can handle it
The way that helps me to "cope"
Is purely the fact
That my relationship is not
a Long Distance Relationship at all.

In this Love miles may be tangible
but they are everything but definable.
We had Love before there was a distance
and that distance will never be used to
Define us.

No matter how many miles there may be
I can still feel his Spirit with me.
His laugh rings in my ears when I can barely muster a chuckle
His fingers gently touch my skin when I drift off to sleep tucked away at night
I can hear the gentle whisper of his voice when I get up saying,
"Good morning, beautiful."
And I can feel him singing along with me in the car to our Song when my voice cracks.

Our relationship is not a Long Distance Relationship.
Just because there is distance
does not mean that distance defines It.
He isn't absent until I come home
or when he visits me
My Love is always here.
He may be in whispers, and small chuckles, and light sighs
But a part of him is always here
Always with me
Always there
and I can feel it.

So in a sense
our Long Distance Relationship
has no distance at all.
Because creating distance means to separate or to bring apart
And that's not what our relationship does in the slightest.
If anything
these 873 miles bring us closer
Closer than we could ever imagine.

I'm not saying that I enjoy
not being able to physically see him everyday.
But this chapter in our Love is not hard or difficult or too much to handle
And it certainly isn't bringing us apart.
Because we both do not see any other option
This is worth it.
This is right.
This is It.
This is the kind of It that everyone talks about
we all hope for It, search for It, even die for It.
and we are so blessed to have found It so early.

So these 873 miles will not be permanent
but they are so indescribably worth it.

There are so many moments throughout my day
Where I miss every aspect of you
From the musky smell of sawdust after you finish work
To the small whine of desire when you outstretch your hand to take mine
You always know how to mix the perfect amount of milk and sugar to my coffee
You detect the strangled lie in my voice when I try to say I'm "okay"
I've never been able to understand how you do it all
You are a Miracle in my eyes
A Beautiful Miracle
Sprinkled with tinkering laughs and silly jokes
We speak a language that only we understand
Filled with silent moments of eye contact
Snorting laughter
And hand squeezes
I've memorized and harmonized
With the pitch of your first yawn when you wake up in the morning
You keep your breaths in time with mine
When you hold me against your chest
You still manage to put my hair behind my ears to caress my cheek
Even though my hair is even shorter than yours most of the time
I've never seen you look at me
Without seeing all of the Love in the world in your eyes
Your Spirit brings so much hope
It shines a path for me when my Soul has lost its fire
I know each and every spot that tickles you
And never plan on revealing those beautiful secrets to anyone
You listen to my ramblings as if they were strung with golden threads
And your laugh sparkles more than diamonds
I love the roughness of your slightly-callused hands
And the gentle rumble in your whisper
You are the greatest of mysteries
The most beautiful of poems
More harmonious than the purest of music
I drink your Words, your Laughs, your Smiles
As if they were the deepest, richest wine
I want to explore you forever
To me nothing is more true than you,
My Beautiful Rescue

I'm writing this poem because I'm ******
And upset and sad and really **** annoyed
But mostly because I'm ******
I'm ****** because I try so ******* hard to get everything right
Every single thing
I am trying my absolute best
To get it "all right"
And for you, for all of you.
And for some reason that is not good enough
To you, I have let you down
To you, I could have done better
To you, I have failed.
I try to make it through my day
and there is a **** hurricane destroying my brain
and I honestly can't take it anymore.
And you know what makes me even more upset?
The fact that you like it
You, sitting at your computer
You will click the heart and you will Like it
Because this world tells you
that Pain is beautiful to you
Anxiety is complex
and Emotional Destruction is Art
And that ******* ****** me off, too.
Emotional deterioration is not Art
My insane hurricane of internal blame
Is not for you to click the heart and "Like" it
Or for you to share with your Facebook friends.
Why don't you like the love poem?
Or the psalm of happiness?
Or the gentle, giggly limerick?
Is that because we only see internal turmoil as beautiful now?
What about rhymes of sunsets and silhouettes?
And clandestine loves and clinking castanets?
Where are their electronic hearts?
Do those only belong to slitted wrists
and broken heart plot twists?
Well, that's not true
And this ****** poem isn't for you.
This ****** poem is for me
and for what I feel
and for what I create
and for what I accomplish
because what I make is beautiful
and there are so many aspects of this life that are beautiful without being painful
And that little red-clicked heart doesn't mean jack **** to me.

your head laid on my stomach
ear against my belly button
you held my hand against your check
eyes closed
breathing slowly

you would blink your eyes
every so often
because they would get damp
every once in a while
with your eyes closed and breathing slowly

i knew it had always been hard for you
it's always hard for me, too
as we lay in my living room
knowing the day will come soon
with our eyes closed and breathing slowly

tuesday will come
and my plane will take me
back to my second home
as i buckle my seat, leaving my heart behind me
eyes closed and breathing slowly

"i am just so much happier when you are here"
you pushed my hand
deeper into your cheek
"there's a part of me that's missing when you're gone"
you said, as your eyes were closed and you breathed slowly

"you're the only one i trust with my deepest emotions"
i looked into your glistening eyes
"i don't think anyone else will listen to my pain
and not judge me for it except you," i said
then my eyes closed and my breaths inhaled slowly

and we held each other through the night
until sunday inevitably became monday morning
and i walked you to your car
because you had work in the morning
we embraced with our eyes closed and breathed slowly

we knew we had one more day
to hold and laugh and forget about pain
and as you kissed my forehead
then moved to my cheek and lips

my eyes opened and my breathing wavered.

One delayed flight
Stands between us
And that precious time we hold so close
One delayed flight
Is all I need to surpass
Until we share wine and bubble baths
One delayed flight
Until everything will be all right
When tears and fears
Are lost behind layers
Of kisses and giggles
And tickles
One delayed flight
Until I see you
One delayed flight
And all my worries will be finally through

"I Love you fervently and unabashedly.
I Love the way your eyes squint when you smile.
I Love the small snort in your laugh.
I Love how fearlessly you dive into life.
I Love your ability to love beyond differences and hurt.
I Love your appreciation and gratitude for My creation.
I Love your passion for self expression.
I Love you ability to let yourself feel.
I Love how easy it is for you to cry.
I Love your passion for words and your acknowledgement of their power,
       *no matter how off your spelling my be.
I Love your ability to laugh.
I Love your ability to find beauty in things that often go unnoticed.
I Love how you find unique beauty in everyone.

I have great and beautiful plans for you."

I have always taken a small hint of pride
In my ink-smudged hand.
To me it means that I made something
And I was so lost in it
That I smeared my handprint on it
And left my mark.

I also write things on my hand.
Words that remain on my heart
While I soar through my day...
      
       Habakkuk 2:1...You can do it...
                Il mio bel salvataggio...
  Love? above all Things I believe in Love.

Some of these are tattoo ideas
Some of them are already permanent
And some just help me get through the day.

I like my ink-stained hand
It makes up for my nail-scratched arm.

It’s really lonely in this bed
Cuddled up with your

Green Collared Shirt

That still lingers with

The smell of your Skin.

The deeper I dig my nose into it

The louder I can hear your Laughter.

"She should have known better."
"She had it coming for her."
"It's just a joke."
"And you're just sensitive."

You're ignorance glazes over your words
Like paint.
Thick, glossy, and shiny
Words covered with a gentle haze
Of misunderstanding.

Hearing those words
Of un-acknowledged shaming
And saddening victim blaming
Stabs straight through my numbed Soul.

But you know what?
I'm glad you are blinded by your
Ignorance ever so blissful.
I am glad you cannot see
How misguided your word can be.
Because that means
That you have not experienced
The Horror
Of being sexually harassed.

Because if you had the opportunity
To feel that kind of
Helplessness.
Terror.
Agony.
Violation.
Degration.

Then you would have never said
She could have prevented it.

And I thank God up in Heaven
That you have never experienced
That kind of pain.

Hello 4 a.m.
Long lost old acquaintance
I'll have you know,
That I am a ****** acquaintance.
So I hope this is the official goodbye
Because you're no good for me
Nor my dwindling sanity

Sometimes it is difficult to believe
That you are more than simply a dream
You breath
You laugh.
You kiss
You cry.
All in the midst of my lifetime.
How did I get this lucky?
This blessed?
This honored?
To be your Love
Your one true desire
How is it
That You see Me
As Your world?
I didn't do anything special
I didn't pay any financial cost

But I did give you my heart
And I gave Her to You full-heartedly
And I guess that's what has made
All of the difference.

Sometimes I wish I could just tear out of my skin
Just to prove that I'm really trying to let you in.

I lost control in your room.

My head hit the pillow
My breathing became shallow
Gasping, trying to hold it together.

Nothing registered into my mind
I couldn't hear a single sound
Except my mantra,
Keep it together
Do not *****
Spinning around and around.

I was shaken to my core
I didn't think I could control it anymore
Until you wrapped your arms around me
Anchoring me to the floor.

You brought my face to your chest
Caressed my hair and cheek
And my breaths hissed
And tears fell
Each one of them meeting your kiss.

It's okay
You are safe
I've got you
You can let it out
I love you

You had a mantra of your own.

And you held me for God knows how long
Making sure the feeling was completely gone.
Even when my breaths became fuller
And the tears had subsided
You still held me close
Because the trigger had decided
To enter my mind and start at me again.

And then it officially stopped
My anxiety finally left once more
And you were the only thing in the world
Keeping me anchored to the floor.

i should just keep my mouth shut
and never talk
and never explain how i feel.
because whenever my mouth opens
to try to explain my mind
i lead myself down a treacherous stream
of stutters, stops, and sighs
the blind leading the blind.
i don't know why i even try
to verbally explain how I feel
because all it leads to is aching hearts and dangling tears
strangled inside a tightened reel.

My body is like a garbage dump.
It absorbs the trash people don't want anymore:
The hairdresser's abandoning father
The blog follower's self mutilation
The family's dark past
The boy's suicide attempt

My mind is like a sewer.
It's the drain that catches everyone's waste:
The noble girl's ****
The boy's love battle
The drunk man's broken past
The dear friend's "Goodbye Call"

Soiled oceans of sobs from those I love
To those I've never truly met
Mixed together
Putrid with self hate
All coming together for me to collect for them

My soul is like time bomb.
It takes on the weight of people's misfortune
People's biggest regrets
And people's deepest pains
It ticks steadily with the weight of other's
And my own hurt
Feeling more weight from others
Further pushing the timer forward
Steadily ticking

And the scariest part
Isn't the stories being told
Or the hurt that I hold
Or the ticking
It is the unknown moment when there is no more
Ticking.

I actually rather enjoy being alone.

Sitting in the cafeteria
                                      or a coffee shop
                                                                 or the bookstore
                                                                                              or in the park.
Anywhere really.

It’s not that I do not enjoy people.
        People are beautiful.
        I absolutely adore being around them.

They create a lot of outside noise though
        they demand your undivided attention
        they require to be heard
                they.
        and nobody else.

That kind of mandate
is hard to uphold sometimes.
Only sometimes though.

Because sometimes
I like not needing to pay attention
        not needing to listen
        not needing to hold that mandate.

My Consciousness can zone
     in and                 out
   whenever             and
                    wherever                        She
       pleases.

It’s very

      
         Peaceful.

What is a Miracle?

Winning the lottery?
Picking up a heads-up penny?
A granted 11:11 wish?
Canceled class?
A promotion?

No.
Those are miracles.
What is a Miracle?

An A on a test?
Winning the “big game”?
Having a secret admirer?

Nope.
Still miracles.

So what defines a Miracle?
What makes the big M?
Where can I buy it?
Where does it come from?

A Miracle is experiencing
Love at First Sight
Getting kissed on the forehead
when the rain trickles down your blushed cheeks
A Miracle is hearing someone
Sing out loud to their favorite song in the car
Unafraid and Unabandoned
A Miracle is hearing one’s
“Dorky Laugh”
with the Snort in it

A Miracle is being faced with your own Mortality
and being given a Second Chance.

I find you to be beautiful
the way you smile
the way you laugh
the way you bite your bottom lip
I find you to be a mystery
so close to being solved
yet so blatantly and irrevocably unsolvable
I would build a castle for you
a cathedral
with a million rooms
all decorated
and adorned for you
I would climb a mountain for you
just so I could shout into the abyss just how wonderful you are
I would run across the ocean
so I could hear your laugh
and see your teeth sparkle when you smile
I would kiss every scar you possess
every wound that ever touched your skin
and your Heart
especially your Heart
I would caress the pain in your soul
gently touch it
and hold it close to me
and whisper to it
to just keep going
to not give up
to know there is a better tomorrow
I would conquer the world
just to guarantee one more day with you.

It's difficult to describe your kisses
They taste like Ocean's Spray
Feeling the rushing waves of your highest happinesses
And tasting the stinging salt of your deepest regrets

Your kisses take me to the Eye of a Hurricane
Gently caressing in your calm storm
But feeling the wind currents of your demons
Circling around me and tumbling like the drain of an antique bathtub

You kisses take me to a Sand Storm
In the midst of your golden crystals
Flying through the air
Just barely missing my eyes

I hope you I can kiss you forever
Because I want to visit more of the Earth's Wonders

"Be thin."
        Okay.
"But still look like a woman."
        Okay.
"Get ride of that body hair."
        Okay.
"Kiss my beard."
        Okay.
"Have *******, baby."
        Okay.
"You're push-up bra is a disappointment."
        Okay.
"Be proud of your looks."
        Okay.
"Are you sick? Oh, you're just not wearing makeup."
        Sorry.
"You're so white."
        Okay."
"Tanning gives you skin cancer."
        *Okay.
"Long legs are ****."
        Okay.
"Take your heels off. You can't be taller than me."
        *I'm sorry. I'll try better next time.

We were lying together in your bed
I was gently drawing circles on your chest
        You were smiling and gently humming to yourself.
Every moment we spent together was always
        blissful and beautiful.

And I asked you a question
        as I turned my head to the side
                to listen to your heartbeat
                and see a glimpse of your face.

‘If you could go back and visit me at any age
        what age would you choose?’
Your heart pumped steadily
        You breathed evenly
        and you smile grew slightly larger.

‘Am I allowed to interact with you?’
        You always asked questions that I would never think of.

‘Sure,’
        I smiled.

‘I would go to you when you were thirteen.’

My body tensed.
        I was very different then
        I was shallow
        I was lost
        I was not the girl you fell in love with at thirteen.

You smiled.
You inhaled.

‘I would tell you that you are beautiful.
I would reassure you that you didn’t need them,
        that you have a bright and promising future ahead of you.
I would tell you that you are going to do amazing things.
I would help you not to worry about what they think.
I would ask you to never, ever change.

And I would tell you that you are right,
        you do not fit in
in the absolute best way possible.’

"Believe Me, I'm Lying"
"Bent"
"Bruised and Scarred"
"By Your Side"

"I Can't Lie"
"I Don't Want to Stop"
"The Impact of Reason"
"In Fate's Hands"

"Thanks to You"
"Little Bird"
"The Boy's Gone"
"Break Out! Break Out!"

"You and I Both"
"Give a ****"
"That is Why"
"We Are Golden"

"Call Me Hopeless, But Not Romantic"
"Pick Up the Phone"
"Raise Your Glass"
"I Can't Stop Partying"
"Oh! Gravity"

Do not let anybody tell you
That your Love is not real.
Do not let anybody say
That just because you make
Passionate Love everyday
Instead of laugh and play
Video games
That your Love is not valid.
Do not listen to those that
Criticize
Your Love language and
Alibis;
Their Love is not Your Love.
They have no right
To say that you two must never
Fight
In order to truly be in Love.
It does not matter
How many laughs you have had
Or kisses you have shared
In order to signify how much
You two truly care.
Love is not a
Dictionary definition.
And no two Loves
Are similar.
If you two have
Laughed together
Cried together
Smiled together
Held each other
Even fought with one another
And still
Through each of your
Highest points
And lowest points
You both fight to be together
Then that is Love.
If you both see
That together
You are worth it
Together you are Strong
Together you build each other up
Together you are One
And no one is getting hurt
Or taken advantage of
Then that is Love.
The rest
Are just beautiful and intricate
Details.
Do not let anybody
Try to tell you differently.

Someday you will find someone
Who will not know your secrets.

Someone who will create secrets about you
Of their own
Someone who will know when and why
Your eyes change color
Someone who knows that your voice raises an octave
When you get excited
Someone who kisses each wrinkle on your face
When you smile
Someone who uncovers your most ticklish spots
And doesn't abuse the knowledge too badly
Someone who loves the smell of your skin
Without perfure
Someone who wakes up just a few minutes before you do
To hear the gentle song of your snores
Someone who delights in each expression you make
     The small waves on your forehead when you are confused
     The gentle sparkle in your eyes when you are curious
     The ripples of your lips when you are overjoyed
     The musical quality of when you are laughing.

This person will fall in love with you
But not because of what you say
But for what you do not say
This person will love your secrets so deep and pure
That you do not know they even exist
And these secrets will never end
This person will delight in learning new nooks and crannies
Of you
Everyday.

And the greatest part is
You will fall in love with their hidden secrets, too.

I used to cut.

My skin yes
        but that isn’t as important.

What matters is I used to cut my Soul
        I used to tear down my Spirit
                flesh by flesh
                fiber by fiber
                down to my barren, forgotten bones.

I saw my Soul and de-humanized her
        she was of no importance
        she did not matter
        and I almost killed her.

On the outside, she seemed fine
        happy
        content
        beautiful even
But that was not the case
        she was a liar.
                because she really was not okay.

she was dying.

And as the blood dripped from her side
        her Soul slowly dripped with it
        like a steady waterfall of agony and self hatred.

But this is no sad story.
        My Soul did not die.
        I did not let her.

I was the author of my own sad story; I chose to change it

I speak my soul Electrified
And from tops of mountains I cry
For in my heart, Angels and demons lie
And in the end, one must die.

I sing my soul Personified
My lungs grow weary against the tide
I stop to absorb the salt as I lie
And wait for that day, for this life to die.

I scream my soul Crucified
As my blood flows with pride
I hold my arms out, long and wide
For I am not afraid to die.

Why do I write?
It’s quite simple really.
My Words are pieces of my Soul
They breathe
They live
They grow
                and mature
Just as I do.
They are from another dimension of
Myself.
A dimension that only They reveal.

I am my Words.
Each and every syllable kisses my Spirit
as They escape the tips of My fingers to paper.

I am in love with my Words
as a Lover adores her beloved.
I fear my Words
as a child fears the dark
while she clutches to her stuffed Pooh bear
and whimpers in the middle of the night.
They touch a part of myself that remains hidden.
They reveal my Angels
and my Daemons.
They show my Strength
and my Hamartia.

My Words have the power to shatter Me.

Ma perché scrivo?

*È l’unico conforto.